At The Ballet
by Loukreswag
Summary: The ballet always held a special part in Alexander's heart and it's about time he shared with his son. Mentions Abuse.


Philip sat down next to his father, tired and ready for the show to end before it even started. Alexander had the brilliant idea to drag the eleven year-old to a ballet show since his other father, Thomas, was out of town for the month and gave them enough money to do whatever they wanted. The only reason Philip agreed to go was because he saw how excited Alexander was for it and didn't wish to cause any more sadness to the man's life if he dismissed the invitation. It was already bad enough at home, the loudness when Thomas was there and the quiet when he wasn't.

The lights began to dim and silence swept through the theater at once. After a moment or two, the curtains opened swiftly with a thick whoosh and a bright light shone on the stage, upon a curled body lying in the middle of it. Soft music started to play, the sounds of piano keys being gently tapped, careful strums of a harp, and the gentle hum of the violins. The sound went on to lull the boy into a relaxed state instead of the tense one he had since his arrival. As the music carried on, the body uncurled itself, revealing a gorgeous woman with dark and rich skin in a contrasting pale leotard, a see-through skirt around her upper thighs. Her hair was done up in a tight but comfortable bun, a few strands loose and framing her face perfectly. The light bounced off her thick eyelashes and gave her golden highlight a more shining glow. She simply took Philip's breathe away.The woman lifted her arms and began to move with the music. The piano was leading her, the woman coming up onto her toes when a certain key was hit, spinning when notes flowed quickly one after another, legs lifting her up into the air when the two happened at the same time. Next, the violin began to contradict the piano, giving the song a more angry approach to it. The sharpness made her leap and spins a certain stiffness that made Philip believe that with just one look, the woman could cut the audience in half. As soon as it came to life, the violin died out, the piano coming back to life once more. The lady went back to swaying and breeze-like movements, arms and legs moving as if the wind had complete and total of her. The harp decided it should be recognized and grew louder, introducing a man who was just as beautiful as the woman.

He was a shade lighter than the woman, matching highlight, and a more muscled body. He fell in line with the woman as soon he was on stage, leaping and spinning in time with her, just as the harp did with the piano. But something confused Philip, the harp had stopped, yet the man kept going. As the couple moved throughout the show, Philip had begun to believe that the people and the instruments were one and the same. The woman the piano, her anger the violin, and the man was the harp. But, that was not the case. The man somehow separated himself from the harp and was now was the violin. The violin wasn't as sharp or angry as it was before. It was sweet and slow, following the piano in its dance of tenderness. Suddenly, the two played different melodies but both were in tune with each other. The woman held her arms out, like a child waiting for a parent to pick them up. And acting like that parent, the man came by an lifted her high off the ground, hands holding her with the same amount of care as the parent would that child. It sent a pang of longing in Philip's chest.

Philip was no longer at the theater, he was at home. The house was dark and still, not a single thing out of place. He turned to his left and spotted the staircase. Following the dim light up the steps with his eyes, Philip saw that a single light was on upstairs in a nearby room, two voices floating down to his ears. Wondering who the voices belonged to, the freckled child headed towards the stairs with slow and measured steps. He felt like it was a familiar situation the further he got up the stairs. Fear was clawing at his chest like a feral cat fighting to escape its cage. As he neared the top step, he was finally able to place the two voices to the faces, and to the memory he's been suppressing since that day.

"I don't understand why you do this to us!"

"I don't understand why you can't seem to mind your damn business!"

Philip froze, standing right next to the open door, not able to look inside the room. Just like he was when he was six. His parents carried on with their argument.

"Thomas, I am doing everything I can for you but you don't care. I am trying to be a great husband and-" Alexander was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, a whimper.

"You're nothing except an ungrateful little bastard." Philip could hear the heavy panting of Thomas from outside the doorway and refused to look inside. He could see the image of the man clear as day without having to look at him. He could remember the hate in his eyes. He knows Alexander is terrified without a doubt but won't let this go. Not now.

"Thomas, Philip is downstairs."

"Like I give a damn."

"Don't do this while he's home."

Thick and heavy footsteps came close to the door, Philip needed to move. He needed to get in there right now to stop him. But he stayed put, knowing that what was about to happen was going to happen regardless. He hated feeling useless but he couldn't watch another fight. The door slammed shut, the click of the lock sending a wave of pain through the boy.

Quiet was all that was heard until a muffled thud came through, causing Philip to flinch and scramble away from the door. Yelling and screaming sounded from the inside and more things were breaking by the minute. The boy sat across the hallway, back against the opposite wall with tears cascading down his face. Gathering his knees to his chest, Philip hid his face and cried, not being able to block out the nightmare that he knows is in there, waiting for him. Everything went quiet again.

"I wish I never proposed to you." Thomas' voice sounded hoarse.

"I wish I hadn't said yes." Alexander's voiced sounded equally as hoarse. A dark chuckle brought Philip back from his crying and across the hall, pressing his ear up against the door to listen. He sniffled and tried to breathe more quietly. Two steps. Thomas has Alexander by the neck now and forced the man to look at him.

"You really think you would have any of this if you had said no. Not in a million years, would you ever get this far. I was your last option. You would be out on the curb making two dollars a customer if it wasn't for me. So while I'm gone doing myfucking job, you sit here and count your damn blessings, Alexander." Philip stood up and dashed from the door, rushing down the stairs on his toes with the grace he forced himself to learn as to not make much noise, turning sharply and spun underneath the stairs with his back to the wall. The door from upstairs opened slowly and Thomas left the room, going down the stairs as well with a suitcase in hand. The man took one look around the house before turning back and opening the door, leaving for his self-proclaimed business trip.

Philip waited a moment, crawling from his hiding spot and went back up the stairs. He didn't stop until he was right in front of the door, this time looking inside and nearly broke down at the sight. The room was destroyed. Glass was shattered and everywhere, picture frames broken and a few pictures ripped, blankets and sheets pulled off the bed, small drops of blood here and there, a busted lamp and coffee table, and a broken Alexander in the middle of it all. He was hugging a pillow to his chest and staring at doorway with unfocused eyes. His breathing was calm in an alarming way. Hair normally held in a bun or ponytail was loose and framed his face beautifully. His nose was bleeding heavily and his bottom lip was busted but with Alexander's constant licking, there wasn't any blood from it. A long, nasty gash was on his arm, elbow to wrist. Bruises blossoming on his skin. One on his right cheek, a large hand-shaped one on his neck, another on top of his brow, and most likely even more under his clothes.

Philip watched as the man stood up and began cleaning up the room. He took the pillow out its case and picked up the glass, cutting his hands, before tossing the shards into the sack. He didn't wince when a particular piece sliced his entire palm. After picking up most of the glass, Alexander picked up the lamp and put inside the case as well and the same with the picture frames. He dropped the full case in the trash bin. He turned and made the bed, his back finally exposed to Philip. It was a sea of crimson trailing from the nape of his neck to his lower back. Once he was done with the bed, Alexander got on his knees and reached under the bed. He grunted when he had to shove more of his arm under the bedframe and sighed when he found what he was looking for. He pulled out his phone and got on top of the comforter. Everything began to blur for Philip, shapes becoming unrecognizable.

The man and woman stilled in the middle of the stage, him holding her hand as they bowed. Philip looked around as applause thundered through the auditorium, the noise deafening to his ears. He turned and saw his father looking right back at him, a worried expression on his face.

"Philip, are you okay?" He asked, his hand twitched like he wanted to reach over and touch him. Philip nodded slowly and sat up further in his seat, suddenly feeling judged. Alexander noticed the boy had gotten in his defensive stature and decided to explain himself. "You're crying." Now, Philip could feel the wetness on his cheeks, could taste the salt on his top lip. He relaxed and welcomed the soft palm, thinking of much its owner went through. He started breaking down and clutching onto the man's button up, not able to stop the tears and sobs.

Alexander wiped away the boy's tears and pulled him into his chest. He didn't care that the tears soaked his best shirt. All he cared about at this moment was comforting his son. Why Philip was crying, he didn't know but hearing the broken sobs was enough to know the child was in pain and it ripped Alexander's heart to shreds. He glared at onlookers whether or not they looked concerned or amused. Eventually, people left, even those who had seemed to want to help and Philip still had tears to spare, years-worth of tears spilling from his eyes. Alexander rubbed his back and waited, he had all the time in the world.

When he finally calmed down, Philip pulled away and looked down at his shoes. Echoes of the yelling and screams fading away. His eyes glanced up and caught Alexander's eyes, brown glossed over with unshed tears. It now occurred to him that he's never seen the man cry before, no matter what happened to him.

"Hey there."

The pair looked up and there was the ballerina and her partner. Up close, their beauty was multiplied and made the other two feel a bit insecure. The woman knelt down next to Philip and reached out for a handshake, the man doing the same for Alexander. After a shaking hands and proper pleasantries, the ballerina couple introduced themselves as Hercules and Angelica and Alexander introduced himself and Philip, who was slowly curling up to hide himself. Hercules had managed to maneuver around Angelica and sit down in the row in front of them to converse with Alexander while the woman stayed with Philip. She smiled sweetly and it honestly calmed the boy. He began to hear the sound of the piano playing when she spoke.

"How old are you, Philip?" She asked, light brown eyes shining. Philip tapped the heel of his shoe twice before answering, voice shy.

"Eleven."

The woman gasped as she took the seat in front of him, still facing him.

"Eleven? Well that's such a coincidence, I started dancing when I was eleven. Do you dance?" Philip was quiet for a moment, tempted to lie, and the piano growing louder and louder per second. Soon, the noise was too much and Philip forced himself to answer truthfully. "Sometimes. When I'm in my room alone. I don't take classes." The woman frowned and he knew it was the wrong answer but it was the true one. She shook her head with her eyebrows furrowed. "That's a shame. You have the shape for it. Small, lithe figure. Perfect for being lifted but you seem pretty strong so you could probably do the lifting." She said, eyeing the boy up and down. Philip was shocked by her response. He was expecting her to judge him, sure, but not in that way. "Hey, what if you asked your dad if you could?" She suggested. Philip shook his head and shrugged.

"He wouldn't go for it. He doesn't really like dancing."

"Oh." Angelica turned to Alexander and Hercules, the former blushing and laughing, and cleared her throat. Alexander tucked a hair behind his ear and Hercules tried to hide his smile, both turned to look at her. "Yes?" Alexander said after calming down. Angelica gestured to Philip with her hand, her nails were painted a rose gold color. Fitted her elegance quite nicely.

"Would you mind letting Philip join a dance class?" The piano grew intense once more, her eyes focused solely on his father, who didn't seem at all effected by the hardness in them. Didn't he hear the music too? Alexander took a shallow breath and said,"I don't mind that at all but," his hands twitched again as he turned to face his son, "we're going to have to ask your father. That is, if you want to." Hercules and Angelica looked confused. The father-son pair noticed and Alexander explained. "He has two dads. Me and my husband, Thomas." Hercules' tried not to look forlorn but failed horribly. Philip tried to ignore the depressed drawls of the violin beginning to play alongside the loud and intense piano. Angelica turned back to him and smiled again, the piano switching to a more sweet melody than before. She held out a small golden bracelet with bronze music note charms. The small boy watched as the accessory dangle from her fingers. "That's really pretty. Who's it?" He asked, eyes lifting to meet hers and subconsciously noting Alexander and Hercules went back to their own playful banter.

Angelica held it out further and nodded towards him. "Yours if you want it. I saw you crying earlier and wanted you to have it. I had to go back to my dressing room because I'm not allowed to wear jewelry during performances. I would imagine playing the notes and making a song from them. It would always cheer me up." She looked down at the bracelet and hit the quarter note with the nail of her index finger. The woman looks fond of the item and it was not entirely his for the taking. Philip opened his mouth to refuse the offer but his father stood up, drawing Angelica's attention from the boy's answer. "It was nice meeting you both," a glance at Hercules, "but we really have to get going. C'mon, Philip." He tapped the boy on the shoulder, getting Philip on his feet and guiding him out the aisle. Hercules and Angelica followed them quickly.

Hercules turned and pulled something out from one of the seats, a small pen. He rushed back and stopped Alexander, clicking the pen open and writing it on the man's wrist. Alexander looked down at his wrist and back up to Hercules, looking both terrified and flustered.

"I'm sorry but you know-"

"Yeah, I know. But it'll make me feel better."

Alexander bit his lip and nodded. While this happened, Angelica knelt down and put the charm bracelet in Philip's hand. "You keep this for me, okay?" Philip knew it wasn't really a question and accepted the gift. "Thank you, ma'am."

Alexander and Philip walk out the theater with two different experiences, both unforgettable. Philip looked down at his new bracelet and focused on a specific quarter note, hearing the note being played in A minor over and over again. His father was eyeing the phone number as if he was contemplating something before shaking his head and deciding against whatever he was thinking.

Maybe Philip could give dancing a try.


End file.
